


Kent Parson vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda

by sohini96



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Making Up, Original Character(s), Swearing, Team as Family, handwaving in the general direction of hockey, kent finally gets to be happy, so many ships all the ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohini96/pseuds/sohini96
Summary: Kent Victor Parson never doubted the fact that he was a completely extra, hot fucking mess, and that one day, in the very distant future, he's gonna have to grow up. He also never doubted the fact that he'd one day be in the NHL, doing what he loved. But that he'd have to do it all alone, far away from everyone he's ever known and loved- that was something he hadn't counted on. But with some help from his ridiculous teammates, his asshole of a cat, unwavering family and a host of wacky friends along the way, he begins to learn that being alone doesn't always have to mean being lonely, and that happiness can be just around the corner if you only remember to look for it.





	1. Born to Make History

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!! So each chapter of this fic is going to be based off a particular song which makes up the playlist for it. This first one is History Maker by Dean Fujioka, the others will be forthcoming. Thankyou so much for reading! :D
> 
> Also, for those wondering about the title, it's based off one of my favourite books, Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda, by Becky Albertalli. Please check it out on Goodreads if y'all are interested! :)
> 
> Playlist Link:  
> https://play.spotify.com/user/12123016094/playlist/4IYWh2wBnxnDCWfjHOvC5r
> 
> Chapter Titles:  
> 1\. History Maker, by Dean Fujioka  
> 2\. From 'Don't Give me Those Eyes', by James Blunt  
> 3\. You Can Cry Tomorrow, by Betty Who  
> 4\. From 'Save Rock and Roll', by Fall Out Boy  
> 5\. From 'Broken Glass', by Sia  
> 6\. From 'Bright Side', by OBB  
> 7\. From 'Gypsy', by Lady Gaga

June 26, 2009  
Bell Center, Montreal.  
"The Las Vegas Aces choose Kent Victor Parson as their first round draft pick".  
The center erupts in wild cheers and applause, although there's an undercurrent of whispers and gossip. The press frantically speculate the odds and future outcomes, and what will happen now to the brilliant Zimmermann-Parson pairing, now that Jack has been effectively removed from the equation, either through death or other permanent damage. There's so much noise and activity around him, but Kent hears nothing. He can only hear his heart pounding in his chest, drowning out everything. His mind continuously replays the scene of finding his best friend and his lover lying blue on the cold, austere bathroom floor, accompanying him to the hospital, not knowing if he was alive or at least even alright. Bob and Alicia insisted he go to the draft, although that was not even in his mind at the time. For their sake, at least. It's what Jack would have wanted, Bob said. So he went. He mechanically shakes the hand of everyone on stage and goes to collect his jersey. He slips it on, but it's far too big for him and there are way too many letters. Tears begin to fall from his eyes onto his cheeks, but he quickly wipes them away. This isn't the time or place. NHL players don't cry. Especially not the top draft pick of 2009. They weren't supposed to feel anything. To be anything, apart from hockey. As he stood on that stage, surrounded by his mother, his sister, and many of his friends and teammates, as well as some of hockey's brightest future stars, he felt the happiness he was supposed to feel fill him for a brief second, at achieving his dream. But as quickly as it came, it went, as he remembered all that he had lost. That Zimms was supposed to be up here, not him. That he might not ever even see him again, let alone play with him again. The tears flowed even more freely now, and he could feel his nose turn red. He tried to control them, but they could not and would not be stopped. He was empty, and heartbroken. All he could feel was the pain and loneliness engulfing him. As he was led off the stage and into the crowd, as per his request the Las Vegas Aces manager patted him on the back. "I know how you feel, young man. My younger brother overdosed when he was about to head into the NHL too. He never woke up again. I felt like the world held no meaning for me. But I learned to manage. You have to. Our entire organisation will do our best to support you, and happily you have your family to help you as well. I hope you'll be happy with us. Congratulations once again, and welcome to the team". 

Kent gave him a tight squeeze, and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Then he went, sat down towards the very back and checked his phone. None of the twenty messages he had sent had been responded to. There was a text from Bob though. He hasn't woken up yet, he said. 

He dropped the phone onto the ground and cried into his new jersey, collapsed onto the floor.

He had no idea what life meant anymore.


	2. Take This Love and Break It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent is introduced to Las Vegas....and to his new team.

June 27, 2009  
Las Vegas, Nevada.  
Less than twenty-four hours after his world began to shatter into pieces, Kent found himself all alone on a Friday morning in a large, bare, clinically sterile apartment right in the heart of Las Vegas, pressing his hands against the large bay windows as people bustled continuously along the Strip.

After the painfully long four rounds of drafting for the night, Kent had finally been allowed half an hour to say a tearful goodbye to his mother, stepdad, little sister and entire Italian extended family on both sides, and a broey but no less meaningful one to his New York neighbours and teammates before he was ferried away in a tinted, private car to the Montreal-Dorval International Airport and put on a late-night, red-eye flight to McCarran Airport. He was glad of the lack of gushing and the anonymity he got, as despite the fact that he knew that he would have to leave everyone he loved behind for this, he slowly began to realise the distance and lack of contact he would have with his small, loving circle. The images of his mom giving him the tightest hug he’d ever received from her, as tears flowed down both of their faces and wetting both his jersey and her best blazer, and her whispering into his ear in a broken voice ‘Just do your best and be happy, sweetie. That’s all you need to do to make us proud. You’ll always be the best to us no matter what’, before giving him a big kiss, and his stepdad trying but failing to control his tears, and saying ‘Knock ‘em dead, son’ before giving him a huge, manly hug, and his little sister not being able to say anything, but jumping on him and giving him numerous very wet and sloppy kisses, replayed in his mind the whole ride to the airport and the whole flight, interspersed with Bob’s radio silence and the memory of Jack lying, cold and unresponsive on the tiled, generic bathroom. 

It was no wonder, then, that he cried silently the entire car ride and the majority of the flight, flicking through the photos and videos on his phone before falling into a fitful sleep.

Gently shaken awake by a sympathetic air hostess, Kent walked off the plane at a truly ridiculous time in the morning and into his new city in a strange, catatonic haze, which was only broken after he stepped out of the airport and was overcome with a searing wave of heat. Looks like we’re not in Kansas, anymore, Dorothy, he said wryly to himself, as he stepped into the taxi pre-hired for him and sped off to the apartment that management had procured for him, as he yawned and stared, wide-eyed at the landscape around him intermittently.

The taxi driver was very nice, and once Kent had reached his apartment block, he was given a pat on the shoulder and a business card pressed into his hand ‘in case you ever need anything, kid. This is a rough place for people as young as you’. Then they sped off, and Kent stared up at the seemingly never-ending high-rise block, wondering which level was level thirty and where his flat was.

After much swearing and walking up and down the corridor because the numbering in this ridiculous place was fucked up, Kent FINALLY found the door to his flat, and with a fair amount of trepidation, opened the door.

It was…..well, exactly what he expected and much better at the same time. Walking through, he noticed that it was a lot larger than he had anticipated. All the appliances were modern and the entire place just gave off the aura of being sleek and modern. The only thing was that it seems very….sterile. Granted, that was probably due to the fact that the place was completely bare, apart from his luggage and his hockey gear, and the larger than average single bed in the master bedroom, but still. It seemed empty, and devoid of any possibility of warmth and comfort. But, it was his, and in the end, that’s all that mattered.

Tired, cold, hungry and utterly spent emotionally from the events of the past day, Kent flopped onto the ledge of his giant living room window, so far one of his favourite parts of the place, and leaned against the glass, watching the . Briefly, he thought about what Zimms would have thought about this place, and about the city. After all, it was him who was supposed to be here, not little Kent, who has supposedly ‘ridden his coattails’ to success. He imagined that he wouldn’t have liked it very much. Or, at least, not more than Kent himself liked it at the moment. 

On a sudden impulse, he checked his battered flip phone, which he was informed would soon be replaced with a brand new iPhone, a new invention by Apple. Despite his ten more messages and five more missed calls, there was nothing from Bob or Jack. Only a few texts from his family. Sighing, he quickly sent out a mass message to his family and friends that he was safe in his apartment which was greeted by smileys from his parents and requests for pictures from his friends and sister. He clicked one, and although the quality was, to be honest, utter trash, it received the most excited of reactions from everyone.

Smiling softly despite himself, Kent flopped into his bed and decided to take an untimely nap. He thought he deserved this one joy, at least. 

He was awoken about five hours later by his phone blaring Britney at him. Expecting the best, he checked the call log excitedly, but it wasn’t Jack, or even Bob. He deflated, visibly. However, there were at least three or four missed calls from a variety of unknown numbers, followed by texts from these numbers all variations on the same theme of ‘Welcome to the Aces, rookie!’. Kent smiled again, unexpectedly, for the second time that day. This must be his new teammates, getting his number from the manager. Kent had no sooner replied to all of them then he was greeted with a loud knock on his door. Slowly opening it, he was immediately bowled over by at least five large, burly men all towering over Kent’s five-foot-ten frame. 

Once he had recovered himself and gotten up off the floor, he was immediately enveloped in a huge group hug by these men before being installed in a circle on the floor, and his hands filled with boxes and boxes of food, toiletries and groceries, which he then methodically placed on his shiny new kitchen counter in a semi-orderly pile.

‘Hey, little Kenny, don’t you have any furniture yet?’, asked the tallest, which he’d previously been told was the captain of the Aces. Andy Dubrovnik, an American-born Russian, and the son of a famous KHL player, was only about thirty, one of the NHL’s youngest captains, and had been so since he was twenty-three. He was fast becoming one of the league’s rising stars, despite his age, and was probably one of the nicest hockey players in the league. But obviously, Kent didn’t know about THAT. Well at least, not yet, although he knew all his other stats. 

Although he shuddered just a little bit at the nickname, Kent recovered and answered ‘No, cap. I only got here this morning, you see, and the flat was empty, and I’ve been asleep most of the day….so, yeah’. ‘You poor thing’, said Andy sympathetically. ‘All alone here in this empty flat after what you’ve been through’. Kenny started ‘How do you know about..’ but Andy cut him off, saying ‘Pretty much the whole hockey world knows about that by now. It’s all over the news, social media, everywhere. And of course we know, we were watching the draft online to see who’d we get. That’s why we came here as soon as we were told you got here. I remember how I felt when I first went to Montreal. It was horrible, and it wasn’t even too far away from my family. Anything you need, we’ll help you with. We’re a team, and we’re here for you’.

Kent was so touched by this that he unconsciously started crying again, sniffling suspicious before giving up and just wiping his eyes with his jersey. Luckily, another teammate had wisely brought a packet of tissues in his bag, and quickly got it out, giving it to Kent with a smile and a pat on the head. Kent gave him a weak smile back, before quietly saying, in a shaky voice ‘Thankyou all so much for this. I’m so glad all of you are here. I never expected any of this…I’m just…so grateful’. Andy gave him another quick squeeze, before booming ‘Alright, so now let’s have a proper introduction! Come, on, boys, speak up’, while everyone gave themselves a formal introduction to Kent, along with nicknames. The one who’d given him the tissues was Jeff ‘Swoops’ Troy, who turned out to be only a year older than him, another forward and unreasonably adorable to boot, and the others apart from Andy, who went by Dubs and was again, a forward, were Mischa ‘Kuzzy’ Kuznetsova, a defenseman, Leo ‘Lion’ Durand, the goalie and Oscar ‘Taylor’ Swift, another defenseman. After fairly demolishing much of the food (and soft drinks) that had been brought to Kent’s place, Kent now had a pretty fair working knowledge of the entire Aces roster, including coaching and management staff, and was feeling much less like a kicked puppy and much more like a teenager having a house party. They joked and laughed and gossiped, and at one point, someone put their phone into a docking system and they had a mini-karaoke and dance session, and Kent began to feel more and more like he’d been here forever. 

After four hours, it had begun to get dark, and the lights on the Strip began to wink awake. It was a truly beautiful thing, and Kent, fascinated, sat on the floor admiring it for a long, long while before he was tugged along by his teammates on an impromptu Ikea trip since ‘you can’t live like this forever, man, you need to get some shit’. So, after an hour long trip, car filled to the brim and loud music playing the entire time with the windows down, an enjoyable classic Ikea lunch and a three hour shopping trip filled with the ridiculous shenanigans one could expect of five young and fun men, although Dubs tried many times to control their antics, Kent found himself in a cuddle pile on the floor back at home, with a truly ridiculous amount of furniture and cutlery all piled up in a corner of the living room, paid for with Kent’s first ever paycheck, ready to be assembled and placed in their proper places.

It was about ten minutes into this before Lion suddenly announced ‘MOVIE AND TAKEOUT TIME, GUYS!’, and the whole company bustled into ordering food, unpacking some of the cutlery and arguing fiercely over the best hockey movies of all time, while firing up their Netflix queues (how they brought their laptops here, Kent would never know), and within half an hour Kent found himself in a companionable swarm in front of Lion’s MacBook watching The Mighty Ducks, eating a slice of cheese pizza and laughing for what seemed like ages. It filled him with something he never thought he’d have again: hope. Something further compounded when Swoops, suddenly dropping his plate, proclaimed ‘Oh shit, Parson doesn’t have a nickname yet!’, and with the movie hurriedly paused, a loud and vehement discussion ensued, from which Kent was excluded apart from trialling suggestions.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of this, Dubs finally broke free and announced ‘Kent, on behalf of the Las Vegas Aces, we have formally decided that you’ll be henceforth called Parse! Apart from when you’re in trouble’, he said, winking.

Kent, well now Parse, smiled widely and nodded to give his assent, and the whole group erupted into cheers, before previously hidden alcohol was passed around to celebrate this.

Taking a half flute of champagne, Kent toasted, along with his group, to his new life, and as he sipped it, he tilted his head back and released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

Maybe things were going to work out for him here after all.


	3. You Can Cry Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent has his 19th birthday. He doesn't expect to do anything....but how wrong he ends up being.

July 4th, 2009  
Las Vegas, Nevada

Kent’s first week in Vegas was a blur of company, clubbing and rough, but satisfying hockey. Pre-season training and conditioning had started on his very second day as an Ace, and even years of junior hockey couldn’t prepare him from the new, extremely high standard of NHL hockey. 

And while Kent hadn’t had contact with Jack himself yet, a couple of days ago, Bob had texted him to tell him that Jack was now awake and responsive. Kent called immediately, asking whether Jack would be able to talk to him, but Bob said, his voice taking on a sad tone, “Son, I don’t think Jack’s ready for that. I’m sure he’ll call you soon. Until then, wait and let him take his time, okay?”. 

After that, the conversation tended more towards Kent’s settling in and other such matters, but once he got off the phone, Kent collapsed into his new, fluffy couch, unsure whether to be relieved or upset. Right now, it seemed like a mix of both. 

It took him everything he had just to keep up with everything and everyone at first, but by the end of the week he reckoned that he’d shown exactly why he deserved to be here as the first draft pick. He was wickedly fast, as someone of his height had to be to avoid being squashed into the boards by the behemoths that dominated most hockey teams, had superior puck-handling skills and by now had acquired an almost freakish awareness of exactly where his teammates needed him to be. It had certainly endeared him to the rest of the team. After the end of his first day of practice, Kent found himself befriended by the literal entirety of the team and both coaches, and his new phone was now filled with their numbers. This also translated to his social life, where the audience at his mini house parties had now grown from the initial heart of the team to least three quarters of the Aces roster, if not more. He went clubbing every alternate day, and while lots of places looked the other way, there was no shortage of people passing him drinks at any given time. And in the mornings, even if had drunk a little more than strictly advisable, his hangover was usually cured by being dragged to the nearby gym by a gaggle of teammates, mostly Lion, Dubs, Kuzzy, Swoops and Tay, who had now appointed themselves Kent’s BFF’s. Seriously, they now even had a group text and everything. It was a Thing™. But the reward for these exertions…the breakfasts. Kent thought he’d have to give up pretty much every single nice food he liked once he entered the NHL. But instead, almost every day after gym sessions, the gang tried out a different café or breakfast place, all with the most beautiful food, and Kent was living. He could almost feel like he wasn’t dead inside anymore, in fact.

It was during a breakfast like this on a seemingly ordinary Wednesday at what they’d now decided was their favourite place, a little nook called ‘The Egg and I’, which had absolute killer eggs benedict and a wide variety of overly sweet coffee and tea to keep Kent and Swoops happy when the conversation turned from gossip and shenanigans to something a bit more personal. 

“So, Parse, we know it’s a special day for you today”, said Dubs, trading smirks with the other members of the little group sitting at the largest table.

Kent started a bit. He knew exactly what Dubs meant, but he didn’t exactly expect to do anything for it. He didn’t think that he’d have the time or the energy, even.

“Um………the fourth of July?”, said Kent nervously, playing nervously with the St Michael’s medal around his neck.

“No, you idiot, it’s your birthday”, said Taylor annoyedly, whacking Kent in the head with a long arm.

“Ouch, bro!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to be so hard”, Taylor said apologetically, petting him on the head. 

“How do you even know?”, asked Kent.

“We asked Coach when it was”, said Lion sagely. “We figured it was soon, but we didn’t realise it was this soon”.

“You got anything planned, bro? Any babes you got a hot date with?”, drawled Swoops, shoving past both Taylor and Lion and elbowing Kent in the ribs.

“Haha nah, man, no babes for me. And my only plans for today involve watching some trashy TV show and getting some takeout, nothing special”, said Kent, shrugging.

“Oh come on, man, don’t be a bore!”, said Lion emphatically, slapping him on the back. “You’ve got to do something!”

“Oh alright! What do you idiots suggest?”

“Clubbing?”

“Nah, we already do that a lot.”

“House party?”

“We already do that a lot too.”

“Laser tag?”

“Ooh, maybe !”

“Bowling?”

“YES!”, said everyone at once. The whole café swivelled around super fast to look at them, but after an apologetic smile from Kent to the cute manager, who had befriended the group, the café once again dissolved into companionable chatter.

“So then it’s decided”, said Dubs. “But first, we all have to go and change clothes and all that shit at Kent’s place, we already have all our stuff with us.”

“Wait, why do we have to go to my place? You guys can’t change at your own places?”

“Bro. Parser. Just go with it”, said Kuzzy, messing Kent’s meticulously arranged cowlicks into a messy tangle, much to his chagrin.

“Just made the reservation for lunchtime to midnight, we really need to haul ass right now if we want to get there on time”, pointed out Kuzzy, putting his glasses and phone away.

“How the fuck did you get that done so quickly, man?”, said Kent, confused.

“Good time management and lots of connections”, said Kuzzy knowingly, winking at him and exchanging meaningful looks with everyone else.

“Bloody English major, always showing off your freaking vocab”, said Taylor affectionately, poking Kuzzy’s shoulder. 

“Taytay, it’s really not my fault that you have the vocabulary skills of a teaspoon”, said Kuzzy wisely, poking Taylor in the eye as payback.

“Ow, man, what the fuck?”

“You deserved it, you cretin.” 

“Alright alright, settle down, boys, we’re all adults here”, said Dubs authoritatively, breaking apart the brawling twenty-somethings before they started wrestling each other over the table as they were wont to do.

“Fine!”

“Oh, alright then, Dad.”

“Ok, guys”, said Kent in a tone that tried to be stern, “Let’s go now then, before we all fall asleep right here from a food coma”.

With everyone’s approval, Kent got up and paid, asking how the manager’s MBA was going while sneaking her a very generous tip, before catching up with the rest of the boys and briskly heading off to his place in a gaggle.

Luckily, Kent’s place was only about a ten to fifteen minute walk from the café. But on the way there, Kent noticed some truly odd behaviour from his teammates.

Swoops and Dubs kept texting the entire time there, and he knew for a fact it wasn’t the team group chat, because he would have gotten the notifications too. They were never this hooked to their phones.

And Kuzzy kept talking on the phone in Russian to people, really quietly, something he never did. Leo and Taylor were the only ones who seemed to be acting remotely normal, but even they kept walking a little too fast for normal purposes.  
This strange behaviour only intensified as the group got to Kent’s apartment block, with the rest of the gang falling back and whispering among themselves as Kent took them all up in the lift.

Despite being quite an intelligent person, Kent was still somewhat clueless, as most eighteen-almost- nineteen year old boys are.

And as Kent opened the door, he was greeted with a very large group of people all yelling different, but equally loud variations of ‘Happy birthday, Parse!’ from every single possible location in the immediate vicinity. As he closed the door, he took in the huge banner that said HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY, PARSE! in big, colourful block letters, the balloons and streamers, that seemed to inhabit almost single nook and cranny, and most of all, the fact that literally his entire team was now currently crammed into his living room, laughing, talking and beaming at him.

“You guys…how did you…when did you…oh my god!”, said Kent, shocked and surprised, but ridiculously happy all the same.

“We knew you weren’t going to do anything for it, so we decided to take the initiative”, said Dubs happily, hugging Kent to him.

“Where did the rest of those idiots go?”, asked Kent. “They just ran into the apartment and I can’t see them anywhere”.

“Oh, they’re around”, said Dubs knowingly, pointing him towards the large, glass dining table he’d bought to accommodate the influx of constant visitors he always had.

There, he saw Lion, Swoops, Kuzzy and Tay carrying an absolutely ginormous cake to the table. As he was shepherded towards it, he noticed, with much happiness and laughter, that it was a hockey rink with a number of little men, including Parse himself, in little black uniforms. He was about to ask how on earth they got this done, but before that, Lion, with a beer in hand somehow, loudly declared “It’s time for the birthday boy to cut his cake!!”

So he did, with everybody loudly (and somewhat drunkenly) singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ in the background, and finally being fed a piece by Dubs. It was tiramisu flavour, his absolute favourite and the one his stepdad had always bought him since he was little, and it was absolutely delicious. 

It seemed that the excitement of the occasion went to his head, because about five minutes after that, overcome with feelings, nostalgia and the sheer stress of the last couple of weeks of his life, he burst into tears, having to cry into Dubs’ shoulder to avoid falling onto the floor in front of everyone.

“What’s wrong, tiny sunflower?”, asked Dubs in a concerned voice and using the special petname he had for Kent. 

“It’s just all too much, y’know? It’s just…I never thought I would have all this. All of you guys, all these friendships, this, along with hockey…I’m just so grateful. What did I do to deserve all this?” said Kent, sobbing still, but slowly getting himself together.

“Parser, this is how this team operates”, explained Dubs soothingly. “We all have each other’s backs, no matter what. We do shit for each other. We help each other out with anything and everything. And we’ve seen what a good guy you are, don’t think we haven’t seen you befriending not only the entire team, the rink staff and the PR people and all the waitstaff and management of every single place we go to. I know that you go and volunteer at the ASPCA every Thursday. And even without all these things, with everything that’s been happening to you…you deserve this. You really, really do, little guy.”

Kent was pretty much speechless for the next ten minutes, before he was promptly installed with cake and alcohol by Lion.

After about half an hour, Kuzzy suddenly announced “Oh shit, guys, we need to get to the bowling alley in an hour. Hurry up, everyone, go home and change and shower and whatnot and we’ll all meet there. Chop chop, everyone.”

And within ten minutes, the entire apartment was cleaned up (somewhat), everybody apart from the six ‘musketeers’, as they were called were now on their way home, and within twenty minutes calls and texts started pouring onto everybody’s phones, telling them that they were at the place.

Two hours later, with everybody divided into four teams and with a lunch of nachos, chicken wings and beer in their bellies, the party was really picking up. Kent hadn’t been bowling in who knows how many years, so he was terrible at it, but he found that even when he was getting his ass handed to him by his very smug teammates, he didn’t even really mind. He was having too much fun too. Every joke was funny, every single gutter ball was laughed off and the amount of laughs and hi-fives being given gave off enough positive vibes to power a whole small city.

His team even ended up winning, by the sheer combined efforts of Swoops and Kuzzy, although the other teams came really close. As a reward, they got to choose the next activity, and Kent took advantage and suggested laser tag.

Very few people in the team had been before, only Kuzzy had, having gone occasionally with his friends back in college, so they all learnt at the same time and had even more fun. All their competitive hockey instincts came out in full force, and they all ended up being shockingly good at it. Kent’s team won, again, and although the rest of the team cried foul, nobody really minded since it was the birthday boy’s team. It was, to Kent, something he’d hardly ever seen. Healthy competition was new to him.

Exhausted, they waltzed into the kickass pizza place nearby and somehow managed to fit everyone in, and between them demolished at least twenty pizzas and forty pieces of garlic bread, along with truly criminal amounts of soft drink (drinking of alcohol had now been banned so everybody could sober up). Then, piling into cars, everybody slowly said goodbye, handed Kent presents (which he immediately placed in the boot of Dubs’ car) and left, with promises to see each other at afternoon practice tomorrow.

It was at least nine or ten when the gang finally got to crash at Kent’s place, and with presents piled up at one end of the living room, a blanket fort was constructed in the master bedroom, with the Fourth of July fireworks going off in the distance and a party playlist playing softly in the background.

Leaning softly against Kuzzy, Kent began to fall into sleep.  
Probably my best birthday ever, he thought.

He could definitely get used to this.


	4. You Are What You Love, Not Who Loves You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent realises some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so sorry for the delay, I was drowning in midterms. Hope you guys like this!

June 10th- 23rd, 2010

The Aces got knocked out in the third round of playoffs, losing to the Pens in a nail-biting shootout. 2010 had been a hard year for almost everyone in terms for their personal lives, and this new setback broke everyone’s hearts. The small but rabid and rapidly growing fanbase was inconsolable for quite sometime. But somehow, it wasn’t the end of the world. The team was inundated with condolences, encouragement, ‘congratulations for making it this far’ and ‘we’ll get ‘em next time’ posts, letters, Facebook posts and even MySpace messages from fans all around the world, their coaches still told them ‘good run, boys, keep your heads up, we’ll get there someday’, and Kent’s world hadn’t ended like he thought it would, having been utterly indispensable throughout the season and especially during their limited playoff run. 

The entire team moped for about two days after their loss, before they all rallied, piled into each other’s cars and either flew or roadtripped to watch the last four games of the Cup, soaking up the atmosphere and excitement, and on June 9, the last game, cheered and cheered their hearts and voices out equally for both Jonathan Toews and Claude Giroux, who had continued their friendships with the entire Aces team ever since they got drafted in 2006, the same year the Aces had been established, and when they finally saw the Blackhawks take out the Stanley Cup in Game Six, the experience was both supremely exciting and tinged with a slight melancholy, mourning what could have been.

After that, it had been a bittersweet couple of weeks, as everyone packed up their things and the lockers all cleared out for the summer, and everybody started to go their respective ways for the break. Luckily, nobody had been traded and every single person on the team was safe for the next couple of years, but it was still a somewhat sad occasion as the tight-knit, affectionate group began to disperse all around the world- many people were going home to their parents, other were going on holidays with their wives and kids, and those who were too far away from or estranged from their families set up to pass a somewhat lonely summer.

Although Kent’s mom, sister and stepdad (who he’d been calling Dad since he was two years old, by the way) were all coming up to Vegas from New York to spend the break with Kent, many of his friends were not so lucky. Dubs' long-time girlfriend, who he was a couple of days away from proposing to, had left him a day before the playoffs started. Kuzzy’s fiancée, who he was supposed to be marrying in this break, had left him a week ago for another man, and his parents were going on a four-month vacation to Hawaii, so he no longer had plans and nobody to spend the summer with. Lion’s parents had divorced two months ago and were too busy with those proceedings to spend time with him, and Taylor’s parents and twin sisters had all passed away a couple of months ago in a horrific car crash. Swoops, meanwhile, had been estranged from his family since the draft, although he refused to say why. 

Upon telling his mother about all this after she enquired about ‘the five musketeers’, Lila Agarwal promptly put her foot down, saying “Kent, sweetie, I refuse to let all those young boys spend their summers languishing alone, especially with all they’ve been through. The poor things, they must be so heartbroken. You have to invite them to stay with you over the summer! I’ve been wanting to meet them for almost a year, now, you know, and goodness knows it’ll be good for all of you”.

“Oh my gosh mom, that’s a brilliant idea! I really wanted to do something for them, but I didn’t realise exactly what until you suggested this. It’s not like there’s a shortage of space anyway, eh? The only thing is, it won’t interfere with you guys visiting, will it?”

“Ken-doll, of course it won’t! You watch, a couple of weeks with those boys and they’ll all be right as rain. This is your mother, the human ray of sunshine you’re talking to, and goodness knows Karina and your father will be absolutely overjoyed to meet more real-life NHL players”.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, Mamma. How about I call them all now and invite them, what do you say?”

“I’d say that you’re an absolute angel of a son, my piccolo tesoro”.

“Salve, Mamma”, said Kent, hanging up the call with a kiss.

That’s how four days later, Kent found his large apartment absolutely packed to the brim with a somewhat incongruous mix of large, rambunctious hockey players, a mischievous and playful teenage girl and his mom and dad, who he has just gone and picked up from the airport, with Kuzzy, Swoops and Dubs in tow, ‘to help with luggage’, they said, when in reality it was to flirt shamelessly with Kent’s mom and sister, who had now become suspiciously giggly and red-faced, and have an extremely detailed and lively discussion with Kent’s half-Indian dad, Charlie, about a variety of sports, from hockey to football to soccer, and who Charlie was now excitedly introducing to cricket.

Now, as Kent was running around preparing everybody’s bedrooms, doing a frantic and sloppy cleaning of the entire house and placing everyone’s luggage where there wouldn’t be any accidents, Lila and Charlie had now taken over Kent’s huge and barely-used kitchen, somehow materialised a variety of healthy ingredients and were now cooking spaghetti and meatballs and vegetable sabzi respectively for everyone, while having a running and chaotic conversation with the rest of the boys and Karina, all of whom had now occupied the many sofas and floor and were in the process of starting a Mario-Kart tournament, while Lion played bubblegum pop from his ridiculously expensive speakers. Kent came and sat on the nearest available floor space and took in the utter chaos, which was both unnverving but still totally natural somehow.

About two hours later, the whole, large group was sat down at Kent’s huge glass dining table for a delicious and lively lunch, and Kent had decided that yes, this was definitely a good idea, as the boys’ temporarily forgotten happiness, smiles and banter once again returned, before everyone flopped in front of the new, giant television and had a bonding session over trashy reality shows before finally heading off to sleep at a truly ridiculous time of night.

This continued for about a week more, before an unexpected event occurred: Kent had been nominated for the Calder. Although Kent had half-thought this might be the case, recent events had pushed it altogether from his mind, and when he was informed that he could bring as many people as he liked to the ceremony, it turned into a real event to be excited about.

On the evening of June 23rd, Kent, Dubs, Kuzzy, Lion, Swoops and Taylor, along with Karina, Lila and Charlie were all collected from the apartment doorstep in their best clothes, which had required a significant amount of wrangling and planning for everyone, to the official ceremony, which was being held at a very swanky hotel ballroom.

Kent was mildly nervous, but he was too occupied with laughing and joking with his family and friends to be too stressed. And plus, there was an open bar and really nice starters, so he had a lot to pass the time, and immediately got everybody else onto that before they started grumbling.

It wasn’t until the announcer said, “This season’s Calder winner is Kent Parson of the Las Vegas Aces”, and he went up on stage and took the award, under all the lights and cameras and attention, that he truly realised how far he had come. Despite everything that had happened this season, despite all the criticism and lofty expectations and setbacks, he was here, winning the most prestigious award that a rookie could win.  
“I haven’t prepared a speech or anything, but I’d just like to thank my team and everybody at the Aces for believing in me and giving me the chance to be here at all, it’s been, well, a bumpy ride, but I couldn’t have had a better group of people to guide me and keep me on track. But most of all, I’d like to thank my family- both by relationship and found, without you guys I wouldn’t even be able to play hockey, and certainly not win awards for it. I love you all so much and am so grateful for you. From the bottom of my heart, thankyou. I'm truly blessed to have all of you.” And with an audible sniff or two, from him as well as those and suspiciously sparkling eyes from his corner of the hall, Kent went and sat back down, and was immediately inundated with somewhat sloppy and wet hugs and kisses from everybody. 

Nothing particularly exciting happened after that until a very large, young brunette man came up to him afterwards and said to him, in a deep, warm voice, “Hello, little Ace. You not know me, perhaps, but I know you. I was drafted with you last year. We played against you a while ago. You remember me?”

Kent thought for a second, wondering whether he’d met any big Russians at the draft. Then he remembered.

“Oh my gosh, I remember you! You’re Mashkov, right? What’s your first name again, I can’t remember…something with an A…..”  
“Alexei”.  
“Yes, Alexei! Alexei Mashkov! It’s so good to see you here, it’s been a while! What are you doing here? How have you been? How are the Falconers treating you?”  
“Yes, that is me, Alexei Mashkov. My team calls me Tater, you know, like tiny potatoes? I’m very happy in Providence, thankyou. I was actually nominated for the Calder too, but you deserve it more. I’m so happy for you. My team are all wonderful. You certainly look better than the last time I saw you, no? No more crying in corridors, I see”.  
“Yes, definitely”, said Kent, remembering that Alexei had comforted him when he was having his breakdown after his draft, and briefly recollected his face staring intently at him across the ice a while ago.  
“Thankyou so much for that, by the way, I’ve never forgotten that.”  
“Oh, was nothing”, said Alexei, smiling. “I don’t like seeing people upset at all. Especially not cute little blonde boys”, he said, winking visibly.  
Kent laughed heartily at this, and tried to think of a witty barb to hide the fact he was blushing heavily. He was failing spectacularly when he was saved by the arrival of the boys and his family, who had come to collect him so they could all Uber home.

“So this is the group I’ve heard so much about!”, said Tater, upon seeing the four hulking boys trying and failing to look somewhat sober, while Lila and Charlie giggled quietly and suspiciously to themselves.  
“Tates!! Hi!”, said Swoops, falling into Alexei’s arms for a hug, while the rest of the boys went in for handshakes. “How are things? How’s that wrist doing?”  
“Hello, Swoop, Leo, Tay! Privet, Andryusha! Wrist is ok, thankyou, still little bit hurt, but trainer said will be better in couple weeks time. I heard about the things that have happened to you guys lately, I’m so sorry. I hope you all are okay soon.”  
Dubs went in for a hug at that, and there were even a couple of tears glistening when he emerged. Alexei patted him on the shoulder, then said, “I have to go, but I’ll see you guys next season, okay? Have a good summer.”  
“Tater, wait!”, said Kent, afraid that he’d leave. “Give me your number so we can keep in contact.”  
“Of course, little Ace, I’m look forward to talking with you”, said Alexei happily, trading phones with Kent and putting his number into Kent’s phone, giving him a pat on the head. “I’m already have the others’ numbers from Andryusha. I asked him for yours, too, but he told me to get it in person”.  
“Well, there you go, then”, said Kent shyly, handing Alexei’s phone back to him. Dubs was suspiciously exchanging looks with the boys and nudging Swoops and Taylor in the background, but neither Kent nor Alexei notices anything.   
“Okay, I really have to go now, so I’ll talk to you guys later? Again, have a good summer!”  
“You too, Tater, bye!”, chorused the group, before leaving arm in arm and climbing into the Uber.  
Throughout the drive, Kent replayed the events of the evening back in his brain, making sure that all of this wasn't just a figment of his imagination, and felt completely content. An award, a cute guy, all these people that love him…things are so good right now.

But then he was suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. This wasn’t his place at all. Zimms should be here. Winning awards, being the hockey wonder child he was born and destined to be, being his usual hockey robot self. 

But then, right before he fell asleep, he realised something.

Kent was the one that was here. Zimms was goodness knows where doing goodness knows what. He hadn’t been strong enough, or couldn’t take the pressure, or whatever the hell happened to him to make him do what he did. 

Kent deserved all of this. He truly did. He would probably remain guilty till the day he died about what happened to Jack, but that didn't negate Kent's achievements. He wasn’t a backup option, he hadn’t ridden any coattails, he hadn’t taken any favours- he’d worked hard every single day of his life for this.

He was worthy of everything.


	5. I'm Not Discarding You like Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent gets a phonecall that he didn't necessarily want, but that he'll just have to deal with.

August 2nd, 2011  
Las Vegas, Nevada  
It had to be at least three in the morning when Kent heard his phone buzzing away on his nightstand. He groaned internally and thrust his pillow over his head, begging the noise to cease. He’d had a very late night, since he’d had the brilliant idea of marathoning every single Harry Potter movie until midnight, since:   
1\. It was still offseason, so he’d had nothing better to do, and  
2\. 2. He’d started having feels about the final movie.   
It had been fairly tame until he’d revealed his plans to the group, which then involved the whole night devolving into drunken chaos and heckling, which although fun, was not the best idea in hindsight, and he could feel the beginnings of a hangover.

But his phone rang incessantly, and figuring that it wouldn’t shut up until he answered it, he flung himself across his room and picked it up.

“Hello?”, he asked groggily, unsure whether he’d even pressed the right buttons.  
“Hello? Kenny? Is that you?”, a voice crackled over the phone.  
“Bob?”, Kent asked, incredulous.  
“It’s me, son. How are you? How are you going?”  
“Good, as well as I can be, I guess. What’s up?”  
“Well…I just wanted to tell you this before you saw it plastered all over the internet and the newspapers”, Bob said, guiltily.  
“What’s up? Is it about Jack? Is he deciding to come back to hockey? Is he going to come here? Will we…”  
“He’s decided to go to college.”  
“Oh, so he’s going that way? Where is he off to?”  
“Samwell. It’s in Massachusetts. It’s a small college, but we think he’ll be happy there.”  
Kent slumped back onto the bed, defeated, like he was a balloon that had been deflated by a pin.  
There was silence for a few minutes, until Kent decided he’d better respond.  
“Well, good luck to him, I guess. If that’s what he really wants. You’ll tell him he’s welcome here with me if he gets bored there though, won’t you?”  
“I’ll convey your good wishes to him. And yes, of course I will.”  
Kent could feel the tears coming, but for both his own dignity and for Jack’s sake, he decided to keep silent.  
“Are you sure you’re alright with this, Kent? I hope I haven’t caused you any pain. I know Jack didn’t mean it to insult you by this.”  
Kent wiped his eyes quickly and tried to get his voice into a semblance of steadiness.  
“It’s fine, Bob, I’m fine, honest. I’m happy for him, really. He always was a giant nerd. Again, I wish him all the best.”  
Bob, at least, was convinced.  
“Then I’ve done my job. I just didn’t want you to find out from anyone apart from us, I know how much that would hurt you. I’m glad I caught you.”  
Kent chuckled wetly.  
“I’m glad you decided to tell me, Bob.”  
A crash came over the phone, and Bob held the phone far away for a second.  
“Listen, Kent, I have to go now, ok? Have a good day today, and a good offseason, and keep hanging out with those boys of yours, they’re already doing you a world of good, I know. Alicia and I are rooting for you.”  
“Thanks so much, Bob. It means so much to me for you to say that. Say hi to Mama Alicia and Jack for me, please?”  
“Of course I will.”  
“When can I call Jack?”, Kent asked, tentative yet hopeful.  
Bob sighed.  
“I’m so sorry Kent, but he’s said that he’s still not ready to talk to you directly. Maybe in a couple more months?”  
Kent sighed back, breathy and hard.  
“Alright, Papa. Je t’aime. Talk to you later”.  
“Bye, son. You know we love you.”  
Kent disconnected the call, putting his phone back on his bedside table and putting his face in his pillow, tried his best to go back to sleep, and to try to stop his tears.

When Kent suddenly awoke with a start, the sun was streaming through the curtains. He glanced at his wall clock. It was nine am. He decided that he’d better wake up and start going about his day without thinking about the morning’s events. It wouldn’t help him in the slightest. And no matter what his heart said, he couldn’t waste his time thinking about everything that could have been. Jack didn’t want to play with him or even talk to him. For now. But maybe, just maybe, time would tell. And even if it didn’t? Well, his phone was currently blowing up with messages from his team, begging him to open up so he could make them his legendary French toast, scrambled eggs and orange and guava juice, and so that they could plan their trip to California. He’d be alright. He had to be.


	6. This Is Not A Perfect Life, But I’m Gonna Live on The Bright Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Las Vegas Aces accomplish something that nobody thought they ever would.

June 11th, 2012  
SAP Center, San Jose, California

As soon as Kent shot the puck towards the Sharks net, he knew that it was going to go in, gloveside.   
The score was tied at 3 all.  
Beyond all everyone’s wildest expectations, the Aces had clawed their way into the playoffs, and then astounded everyone by pulling off the greatest hattrick modern hockey had ever seen by beating three of the league’s best teams to get to the very last round. They bamboozled the Blackhawks. They confounded the Canadiens. Then they knocked out the Kings and it suddenly got very real. The Aces, the team that nobody had even thought would last beyond a couple of seasons, had a chance to win the cup.

The first couple of games against the Sharks were scrappy and bloody, with both teams fighting tooth and nail for every single point, every single assist, every single goal. The Sharks won the first, 3-0. But the Aces won the next, 2-1. And the next one. And the next one. And now they were tied.

Until Kuzzy, backed into a corner by an opposing forward, passed to Lion, who passed, terrified, eyes closed, to Kent, who managed to knock the puck, gloveside, past the astounded Sharks goalie before getting knocked to the ground by a defenseman easily a foot taller than him. 

The buzzer sounded. The arena erupted into screams. The guys on the bench and in the box flung open the doors, jumped the gates to reach their comrades on the ice, whooping. The devoted Aces fans, overjoyed, clapped, jumped on their seats and hollered, banners flying proudly, jerseys all seeming to sparkle. The team all seemed to freeze, and so did Kent who was still on the ice, still not quite believing what he’d done until he turned to look up at the score.

4-3.

The Las Vegas Aces had just won their first ever Stanley Cup. 

The C on Kent’s jersey had never seemed brighter or more prominent. 

“We won! WE WON!”, the boys screamed, all snapping out of their trance to skate over to their side of the ice. Their youngest member, Cricket, their sweet baby goalie, was being hugged and petted to the extreme. Some were laughing. Most were smiling. But Kent, being the giant overemotional sap he was, was now sobbing into the ice, completely overcome with emotion and exhaustion. It was mostly happy crying. At least ninety percent of it was, at least. But ten percent was sadness that the person he most wanted to be here with him wasn’t. He didn’t even come to tonight’s game.

But pushing away those thoughts, and trying his best to be proud of himself, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and went over to his boys, to be promptly enveloped into a full-team hug, and was almost crushed as the hug degenerated into a dogpile. Many head pats and heartfelt whispers transpired, and by the time the Aces staff had run onto the ice, the entirety of the Aces organisation was now unashamedly sobbing, taken aback by the enormity of what they’d accomplished. 

As they were finally handed this most precious prize, Kent was lifted onto his teammates’ shoulders. The cup was much heavier than he’d thought, but pure adrenaline, and the sight of the names of all the Aces engraved onto it compelled and motivated him. He scanned the arena. He could see his family just behind the players’ box, all sobbing and waving. His mom’s face shone, his dad’s face seemed like it would crack apart from smiling and his sister waved frantically, standing on her seat so he could see her. He lifted the cup as high as he could and blew kisses to them. They blew them back and he could feel his heart swell with joy. He waved to as many fans as he could, as Kuzzy, his primary support, spinning so he could see everybody. The cheering reached new heights, as even the Sharks supporters stood and applauded him. KVP was one of the most popular players in the league overall, after all. He was beloved by almost all hockey fans.

As he was put down and the cup passed back and forth among the team, Kent couldn’t hold one more single drop of joy. Even as all the cameras flashed in his eyes, blinding him, he could see the moment in perfect, undeniable clarity. It was being burned into his brain. 

That was the moment he saw them.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Could it really be?

It was. It really was.

He hadn’t seen them in person for almost three years. But standing in the very last row were Bob and Alicia Zimmermann. They were crying too, but discreetly. They were clapping furiously too, Bob trying and failing to wipe his tears as he spotted Kent and waved madly at him.

Jack was noticeably absent, Kent observed, as he waved frantically back, speechless.   
But he decided that, for once, he’d count his blessings as he got them. God knows he deserved to.

This was what it was all for, his mind told him.  
I told you that you could do it, his conscience told him.  
See, you deserve this. You are worth all of this and more, his heart spoke.

Finally, finally, clutching the St Michael’s medallion around his neck, he thought that he just might be able to believe them.


	7. I Don’t Wanna Be Alone Forever, But I Can Be Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent, through unexpected circumstances, meets a new friend who changes his life forever.

July 6th, 2012- Las Vegas, Nevada

It was a shockingly rainy night in July when Kent’s life would once again change forever.

It was two days after his 22nd birthday, a truly raucous yet enjoyable event, as could now be expected of any social event conducted by the Aces, and he’d just emerged from an all-night Mario Kart tournament, not to mention a wicked hangover, with the usual suspects- Kuzzy, Lion, Swoops and Taylor, along with some of the rookies who Kent had taken under his wing. It had been ridiculously competitive, but still extremely fun, with much laughter and shit-talking, and he was finally beginning to feel truly settled and at home- not just on the Aces, but in Vegas itself.

He had just finished cleaning up the truly gargantuan mess left by a weekend’s worth of debauchery and partying and was just taking the garbage outside onto the street when he heard some tiny noises coming from a bush nearby.

Strange, he thought. The resident poorwill, whom he’d named Pigwidgeon due to his size and fluffiness and whom he’d befriended was currently fast asleep, so it couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be the resident hummingbirds either- they visited Kent in the afternoon. And nobody else in the complex had birds, or any other pets, for that matter. 

So he decided that he had to investigate.

Unfortunately, it was then that a clap of thunder sounded in the sky and inexplicably, rain began to pour.

But Kent was determined.

He walked through the rain, very, very slowly, so he didn’t frighten whoever was in there, over to the bushes. He could now hear a distinct mewing. He kneeled down and parted the bushes, which revealed a very tiny, malnourished, dishevelled and distressed kitten, who was also now bedraggled because of the rain.

He extended his hand slowly to the little creature, so that it wasn’t frightened, and let them sniff his hand. They did, tentatively at first, but when they began to sense that he wouldn’t do them any harm, they slowly started to rub against it and headbutt it.

In spite of his heartbreak at the tiny creature’s plight, he was still hopeful enough to be smitten by them. 

He carefully picked the munchkin up- they- no, she- was so small that she fit into the palm of his hand- and despite some tiny mewling protests, he carefully tucked the little bundle into his jacket and headed straight to his car and, after some anxious phonecalls, straight to the Nevada SPCA for urgent treatment.

After a very nervous, contemplative wait in the lobby, Kent was finally called in to the vet’s office. Dr Tina Gupta was an old friend of his, in fact they’d grown up together until she’d left to go to college out of state when Kent was twelve, and true to her personality, she didn’t sugar coat things at all. The little baby, who was only three months old, had a small cold and was pretty malnourished, he was told, but luckily, otherwise alright, apart from being somewhat bedraggled- but if he’d found her any later things could have been much, much worse. She had been checked for microchips and had no owners- she’d presumably been dumped on the street and left to die, being part of an unwanted litter.

This was exactly what Kent had surmised when he found her, but it didn’t break his heart any less.

“Can I hold her for a bit?”, he asked tentatively, not sure if he would be allowed, given the little fluffy bundle’s fragile state.

“Of course, that’s exactly what she needs”, Tina answered benevolently, handing him the tiny girl carefully.

Kent held her gently, like she was something very precious, and finally got a proper look at her, although she was more interested in cuddling up to him. Now that she’d been cleaned, dried and fed, he could see that she was actually a very pretty little miss, although a bit too thin, almost pure white with a little black marking under her chin, beautiful green eyes, a cute little nose and tiny paws and, as Kent could now see, a surprisingly sweet disposition, given that she’d been tossed out into the street like garbage who knows how many days ago. 

Kent never hid his love for animals, but he generally didn’t fuss over them too much. Now, however, he’d unconsciously started cooing at her and making baby noises, as she basked in the attention she was now getting.

Tina observed the scene contentedly, with the air of a mother duck looking at her chicks splashing happily around in the water for the first time. She’d now discovered the perfect arrangement for these two lost souls, both big and small.

“Would you like to keep her? It’s love at first sight, you know”, she said slyly, already knowing what the answer would be.

“I could really do that?”, Kent asked, scarcely believing it.

“Of course. She clearly loves you, and she’s also old enough. Just as soon as I give her some shots she can go home with you.”

Kent sat silently for a moment and thought. Bringing a vulnerable little creature, especially one with such a rough start, into his home and his life was a big decision, bigger than he could make alone. But it was one that he thought he needed and that he’d been thinking of for a while now.

“I’ll take her.”

Tina smiled.

“I thought you would! Let me just give her some shots and then we can sort out adoptions and everything.”

The whole process of adopting the tiny fluffball took less than half an hour, mercifully, and before they both knew it, the sky was clear once again, all the paperwork had been sorted out and he’d gotten a list of things to buy for his new baby girl tomorrow morning. 

Kent was about to head back home with his new daughter fast asleep in her new cat carrier, thanking Tina and the rest of the late-night staff at the shelter when she suddenly ran up to him.

“Wait up, Kenny, she doesn’t have a name yet! Have you thought about what you’re going to name her?”

“Oh my gosh, I totally forgot, I’m so sorry. Do you have any suggestions? I really don’t have any good ideas.”

Tina thought about it for a bit, and struck a novel solution.

“Hey, well, doesn’t she look a bit like you? With the fur colour and the eyes and the personality? Why don’t you name her after yourself?”

Kent laughed softly. He loved the idea.

“That’s actually so true! How about…hmm…Kit Purrson?”

Tina high-fived him at that.

“That’s a splendid name! Kit Purrson it is. Make sure you get her collar and all her stuff tomorrow, ok? Good luck with her, I know she’ll be happy with you. Let me know how everything goes, ok? And say hi to your parents for me!”

“Thankyou, Tina didi*, I will! Goodnight. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Say hi to uncle and aunty for me! Bye!”

And with that, Kent carefully placed Kit, who was now awake and looking around curiously, into his car, and drove home very slowly and carefully so she wasn’t frightened. In fact, she loved it.

It was almost two am when Kent finally got to the front door of his apartment, and, making sure Kit was okay, he carefully carried her into her new home.

“Welcome home, Kit-baby, I hope you’ll be happy here”, he whispered to her. 

And as soon as he saw that she was now perched elegantly on his sofa, curling up to fall asleep, he knew that she would be.

 

*didi is Hindi/Bengali for big/elder sister. It’s generally used to address older siblings and older family friends and acquaintances respectfully. Reference: I’m Bengali-Australian. Kent is half-Italian and half Bengali in this fic (his dad, not seen until later chapters, is Bengali-American), but he’s been raised by his Italian mother and Punjabi-American stepfather. Hence, terms from both languages will be used here and translated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for sticking with me despite my extremely unpredictable update schedule, I'll try and be more regular now since it's break! This was by far one of my favourite scenes to write. I hope I've done justice to our favourite canon kitty and that you all are liking this so far.


End file.
